I stared at the mess, my frozen hands numb, my throat burning with tension. I’d killed an innocent man. No one would believe it was an accident. I had done it again—I had killed someone. I had allowed the alcohol to suppress my judgement, and I had allowed him to drive me into a murderous rage.
I had to leave. I stepped back, my breath ragged. It’d take me twenty minutes to walk home, and I had to hurry—before anyone saw me—before the snow let up.
I’ve killed another man.What the hell is wrong with me?
CHAPTER 17
DECEMBER 17TH
Isat frozen, drifting in and out of consciousness, my back pressed against the cold stone of my fireplace, the crackling flames doing little to warm the dull ache inside me. I was trembling—not only from the chill, but from the weight of the guilt that was eating me alive.
I heard Angela’s laugh echo in the air, and it soothed me, just for a moment. I remembered her soft touch and the way she would smile at me from across the room, like we shared a love where no one else mattered—only us.
God, how I missed her. She’d been taken so suddenly; it was such a mystery. It felt like a dream now. No, not even a dream—more like a nightmare I couldn’t escape.
I closed my eyes, trying to shut it all out, but it was impossible. Her absence gnawed at me in the silence of the house.
Colton Kilhouser was out there. I could almost feel it—his eyes on me, lurking somewhere just beyond the edges of my vision. He’d escaped from the Gibraltar Institute, and now he was hunting me down—watching me. He’d already taken my foster parents. He’d killed Lincoln and Doctor Tuttle, too.
Who was next? Why was he doing this?
Maybe it was because he was one of us—an orphan from Mercy’s Light. A foster child who’d been discarded, just like me. Maybe he was picking us off, one by one. Maybe that was his sick version of revenge, or maybe it was something worse.
“25 days and 12 gifts.” What did that mean?
I felt my throat tighten. Colton was toying with me—torturing me like a cat playing with a mouse before it kills it.
But I had no choice. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t leave. I was paralyzed. Not physically, but mentally. I couldn’t think straight. My mind kept spiraling back to what had happened—to the family I’d lost. I squeezed my eyes shut again, hoping to block it out.
I heard Lincoln’s voice in my head—his words cutting through the haze of my overwhelming turmoil. “Leave with me, leave with me, Lenny. We’re going to die. We must stick together if we’re going to survive.”
I’d been too scared—too damn afraid of doing anything.
I saw him for a moment in front of me and then banged my head against the stone of the fireplace, shutting my eyes tight. When I opened them again, Lincoln was gone.
I could still see it so clearly, the day he was killed by Colton. The dark blood, the way his body crumpled to the floor, the way his eyes went blank, staring at me, lifeless. It sliced my heart, cutting it in two.
“Help me, Lenny. Save me.”
His final words hit me like a sucker punch to the gut. I could still hear the whispers of the dead clawing at the back of my mind. I’dalways been too afraid to fight back—to save anyone. Now they were all gone.
I kept seeing it, over and over. Flashes of what I had done, the atrocities I had committed to appease the wishes of the Xmas Day Butcher.
Sinking the axe into George’s body, killing Joseph in a drunken rage…what monster was I becoming? What would Angela think of me, at the end of it all?
I buried my face in my hands, sobbing. The horrors I had inflicted were overwhelming. I never wanted any of it. I never wanted any part in this sick game. I couldn’t trust myself anymore. I didn’t know who I was.
A brutal knock at the door snapped me out of my endless spiral.
I froze, heart slamming against my ribcage. Was it him? Was it Colton? He loved playing games with me. I could feel it. I was losing my mind. Was this real, or was I just imagining it?
The knock came again, louder this time.
I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to face whatever nightmare was waiting outside. What if it were Detective Castillo? What if she knew what I had done? Was it all coming to an end? Would I be forced to do something I didn’t want to do?
I pushed myself shakily off the floor and crept slowly to the front door. The house was still a damn mess. I shook my head, ashamed of myself.
My legs wobbled, and my heart pounded so hard in my chest I thought it might implode.
